Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy

by R. E. Schobernd

  “We’ll see. O.K., continuing on. Irish and I have spent a lot of time discussing the way each of us feel about everything we can think of. It’s amazing how our childhood circumstances and the resulting feelings were so similar. We each reached the same conclusions about the boys we were dating; only she was way out in front of me in doing so. I guess I always knew in the back of my mind what my problem was, but I was afraid to admit it, even to myself.”

  Clay was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. He wasn’t sure he wanted his sister to continue, and began to focus his attention on a lovely young woman who would soon pass right by his vantage point. Tall and slender, with dark auburn hair; even at the distance of at least a hundred feet he could sense as much as see how beautiful she was. Her pace was quick and purposeful, her stride long and assured. Her cream colored short sleeved blouse was tucked into a pair of black dress slacks, the legs of which swished to and fro as she approached their bench.

  “Please Clay, I really need for you to try to understand and accept what I’m about to tell you.”

  The beautiful dark haired woman was almost in front of him now, and he waited in anticipation for the view as she would pass and continue to walk away.

  Instead, she abruptly turned toward them, strode over to the bench in long purposeful strides, stopped in front of him and extended her right hand.

  “You must be Clay.”

  “Clay. Clay.” Lizzy was addressing him and punched him in the ribs to get his attention. Coming to his senses he stuck out his hand and enveloped the most beautiful, fragile hand in the world.

  Attempting to think of something with which to respond to the soft, firm, feminine voice he finally stammered, “Hi, I, I’m Clay, Lizzy’s brother.”

  “Of course you are” she replied softly. “And I’m Irish; Lizzy’s lover.”

  Lizzy said “Irish, I hadn’t told him about us yet.”

  Clay’s hand dropped. His jaw dropped. His eyes bulged. “I should have seen it coming,” he mumbled aloud. There was something in the way Lizzy was leading up to this and it had alerted his brain. One side of his brain had tried to warn him; but the other side wasn’t ready for this. Not this. For Christ sake, not this. And then there was his short lived fantasy of him and the beautiful dark haired vision naked and touching. She’s a damn lesbian. And my sister’s a damn lesbian, was all he could think of. Sitting there, emotionally deflated, slouched down on the park bench, continuing to stare at the beautiful shell of a woman in front of him, he heard Irish say, “I think he might be having a stroke.”

  “Clay, Clay. For God’s sake, come out of it. Are you alright?”

  “Hell no I’m not alright. I’ve just learned my sister’s a lesbian, and I should be alright? How the hell do you know you’re a lesbian? Just because this damn woman tells you you’re a lesbian?”

  Clay was waving his arms, making wild exaggerated gestures looking as if he had totally lost control of his senses. Lizzy had her hand on his moving arm and was talking, pleading with him to try to understand and calm down. Irish continued to stand in front of him, smiling. Smiling!

  “What the hell are you smiling about? Do you think this is funny? God damn it, stop smiling.”

  “No Clay, I do not think this is funny. I think you are pathetic. Your sister came to you for understanding and you’re acting like an ignorant fucking redneck. Oh, my God, they’re lesbians. Lesbians. Everyone, I’m a lesbian, and so is my girlfriend.” Irish was shouting loud enough for everyone within hearing range to get an earful.

  Cringing from the startled and disapproving looks cast their way by those people near enough to have heard Irish clearly, he tried to calm down and assess the situation. Lizzy is gay. How are Mom and Dad going to handle this if he was any indication of what to expect as an initial reaction. Thank God it’s Lizzy’s problem to address.

  Since adolescence her relationships with men had been less than spectacular. In fact they had been down right awful. But, is sleeping with another person of the same sex worse than being used by someone of the opposite sex and then cast aside? He knew enough details from the rumor mill and from talking to Lizzy to accept she had dated man after man trying to make something of a normal relationship with one of them. Who was he to judge her morality? But he and his peers had been raised knowing gay people were sick perverts to be shunned and avoided if their sexual preference was found out. However, if he continued to hold an unwavering stance the sister he loved would have to be pronounced a social leper; an untouchable.

  Clay stood up, rolled his head back and looked toward the sky through the densely woven oak branches. Even without the knowledge of how this revelation would eventually play out he knew in his heart he could not condemn and abandon Lizzy. Slowly he started to grin from ear to ear while shaking his head from side to side. Lowering his gaze and taking a deep breath he said, “Lizzy, I hope to hell you don’t have any more surprises in store for me today, because I’m not sure I can take anything bigger than this.”

  Lizzy had stood up and moved to stand beside Irish in front of Clay while waiting for him to continue.

  Clay extended his right hand toward Irish, “Irish, let’s start over. I’m Clay, Lizzy’s brother. I’m pleased to meet you, even if you are a lesbian. I don’t think I’ve ever met one before, so please excuse my ignorance and bad manners.”

  “Apology accepted. Lizzy has talked about you a lot, and is quite proud to have you for her brother. I hope this handshake really means we can become friends.”

  “Yes, we can be friends, and just friends. Part of my initial shock was because I was thinking of what I’d like to do with you; and then learned my sister is already doing it. Well, sort of.”

  “Clay! I can’t believe you.” Lizzy grinned mischievously, “But then I didn’t envision us competing for the same lover either.” Lizzy continued, getting serious again, “I’m sorry to spring it on you like this. I knew I had to tell you but didn’t know how. I didn’t think you could hate me for it, but I wasn’t sure of how you’d react either.”

  “Well, if making a fool of myself is acceptable, I guess I took it rather well.”

  “This didn't just happened, and it has nothing at all to do with last October,” Lizzy continued. “I've know my attraction to girls was strong starting with puberty. I also had been taught that it was unacceptable socially and should be suppressed. Only, it finally became so apparent I wasn’t cut out to be heterosexual that I had to stop trying to fool myself. Can you even begin to imagine how confused I was? And then I met Irish. She had accepted it much earlier than I, and had gone through basically the same pain and distress I was experiencing. She helped me to understand and accept what and who I am. And while we were confiding in each other, we fell in love. I’ve never felt this way before, or been happier.”

  “Now I understand why you didn’t want Mom or Dad to walk in while we were talking. How are you going to break the news to them?”

  “I was. kind of hoping you would help me with them. Please.”

  “Oh no, not me. This is your problem. I absolutely won’t do it. No. No way. Stop looking at me. Both of you stop it. Go away.”

  Clay and Walter had gone to the living room while Margaret finished washing the supper dishes. Walter was laid back in his recliner reading the sports section and Clay was sitting in an overstuffed chair; fidgeting. Fingers drumming on the cloth arms, legs crossed with the suspended foot rocking back and forth. Back and forth. Squirming in the seat. Switching legs. Closing his eyes, breathing deeply, exhaling slowly. Thinking of what to say and how to say it. Thinking; will Lizzy be disowned; will I have to move out? Will Mom have a nervous breakdown, or a heart attack? Or both? At the same time? How in the hell did they talk me into this? How should I lead into it? I could talk about how happy Elizabeth has been recently. Talk about the improvement in her school grades. Tell them she smiles a lot more than she used to. Oh yeah. You'll impress the hell out of them.

/>   Margaret finally finished banging things around in the kitchen and came into the living room. “Are you alright,” she directed a question to Clay and reached out to feel his forehead. “You don’t look well. Are you feeling O.K.? I hope you aren’t coming down with something.”

  “Well…I,” he stammered, cleared his throat and took another deep breath. “There is a situation I want to discuss with you and Dad.”

  Walter had a smug look and was thinking the business he had no faith in was in trouble and Clay needed help. “How bad is your financial situation?” he asked.

  “I wish it were as simple as money Walt, but it has nothing to do with money.”

  Margaret took a seat on the couch, put her hands in her lap, turned toward Clay while staring directly at him, and waited. Walter lowered his newspaper, tilted his head down to peer over his reading glasses and waited. And waited.

  Clay cleared his throat again and blurted out, “Lezzys a lisbian.”

  There was silence except for the tick, tick, tick, of the brass horseshoe and horse clock on top of the television. Total silence. Dead of night, graveyard, total silence.

  Walter cocked his head to the right side, laid his paper down, and squinted with both eyes, still looking directly at Clay.

  Margaret straightened her back, sitting rigidly frozen on the couch, eyes opened slightly larger than usual, mouth tightly closed, staring directly at Clay.

  “What did you say?” Walter and Margaret spoke in unison, both still unflinching in their positions. Clay had a fleeting image of two mannequins addressing him, demanding an explanation. Pronto.

  “Lizzy’s a lesbian.”

  Margaret beat Walter by a split second in regaining her composure. “If you are attempting to be funny, you are failing miserably.”

  Walter, talking at the same time as Margaret, came out with, “What in the hell are you talking about. Lizzy, a lesbian? She dates men all the time. What the hells wrong with you Clay, talking about your little sister behind her back?”

  Clay sat in his chair, both feet on the floor, elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands, his mind racing, Oh shit, did I ever screw this up. Now what do I do?

  Moving from the seat cushion in the chair, he sat on the left arm of the chair, right across from Margaret. “Look,” he said, “I’m sorry I blurted it out. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Lizzy asked me to talk to both of you about it. I’m as shocked as each of you. I just learned about it today and she and Irish talked me into coming to you first.”

  Both parents said, “Irish, who is Irish?”

  “Irish Rose, Lizzy’s friend”

  “What the hell kind of name is Irish Rose? Who is she and where did she come from? Why haven’t we heard of her before?” were questions Walter wanted answered.

  “Look, they’re both coming over at seven thirty, you can meet her then. She’s actually a very nice person; a very nice and beautiful person. Her mother named her Iris Rose but she changed Iris to Irish, because she is Irish. Look, I know how you feel; I had the same reaction this afternoon when they told me. But, whether we like it or not Lizzy discovered she is attracted to women and not men. And she’s happier now than she’s ever been. Surely you’ve noticed how she goes around smiling and singing lately. She’s finally in love for the first time in her life. Please try to accept who and what she is and be happy for her. I discovered I don’t care if she loves a man or a woman, as long as she’s happy. And I’ve never seen her as happy. I know it's unconventional and it’s going to be embarrassing when friends and family learn of it and start questioning us about it. Lizzy fought to be like the rest of us for most of her life but she isn’t like us. She had to admit it and now we have to accept it or we lose her. It’s not like she’s become something dirty and evil. She and Irish are in love and their relationship is as beautiful as any between a man and a woman. Personally, I’ve accepted it and I can live with it. The next question is, can you? It’s almost seven now and they’ll be here at seven thirty. Do you want me to leave you alone so the two of you can talk?”

  Walter had moved his chair to a sitting position while Clay spoke. He and Margaret now looked at each other. Walter shrugged his shoulders, rolled his eyes back, nodded his head and said, “Ohhhh yes, we need to talk.”

  Margaret took a deep breath, leaned back into the cushions and said, “Yes; we definitely do need to talk.”

  Clay went to the refrigerator for four bottles of Schlitz, handed his Mom and Dad each one and carried the other two bottles out to the front porch swing.

  He was just finishing the last beer when a blue Volvo two door sedan pulled up to the curb in front of the house. Lizzy was in the passenger seat and Irish was driving.

  Both women appeared apprehensive, Lizzy more so than Irish, as they approached the house, walking hand in hand.

  Lizzy asked, “How did it go?”

  “I think alright. They’ve been in there for thirty minutes discussing what I said. So far I haven’t heard any loud noises, and no ambulance has arrived. I’ll go in with you for the introduction, and then I’m going to get another beer and come back out here.”

  Stepping into the living room, Clay saw both parents standing up, ten feet or so apart. They must have heard the car pull up, or heard them talking outside. There was a pile of used facial tissues on the coffee table and Margaret’s eyes were red and puffy from crying. Walter looked confused, dejected and like he had been worn down.

  Lizzy went to her mom and gave her a hug and a kiss, then did the same with Walter. Stepping over to Irish and taking her hand, she led her closer to Margaret and said, “Mom, this is my best friend, Irish Rose O’Connor.”

  Clay had already entered the kitchen to grab two more beers. On his way through the living room to the front door he heard his name mentioned, and part of his disclosure repeated.

  An hour later Irish and Lizzy came through the front door with Walter and Margaret. All were conversing cordially and Margaret extended an invitation to both women for supper a week from Sunday. Clay walked to the car with the girls as his parents went back into the house. Both women hugged, kissed and thanked him for his help in preparing the parents. After they had driven off, Clay felt he didn’t get to hug and kiss Irish in near the manner he still would like to; even if she wouldn’t get anything out of it, he might.

  Chapter 22

  The following Wednesday Clay met with Jean White, the real estate agent he had asked to search for the home he wanted to purchase. She had called on Tuesday to say she had four new listings to show him. At house number two he knew he was finished looking and would make an offer for the house they were touring. It was much bigger than he actually required, having three bedrooms, three full baths, a half bath, kitchen, dining room, very large living room, a sun room and a full basement. But those were not the reason he wanted the house. He had rejected many houses of equal size and quality until he noticed this one had a very unusual and unique structural feature. In the rear basement wall a doorway led into an underground room behind the main house. The original owner had concrete walls poured to form a room outside the dimensions of the main house. The reinforced concrete ceiling became a patio behind the kitchen. The underground room, originally constructed as a bomb shelter, was thirty feet wide, by eighteen feet deep. Four cast concrete beams in the ceiling had steel beams embedded in them and there were no supports down to the floor. The house sat on a one acre lot, giving it plenty of space from the prying eyes and ears of neighbors.

  Before telling anyone he had bought the house, he ran electric lines and heating and air conditioning ducts out to his new work room. After adding connections to the water supply and utilizing an existing drain already tied to the main sewer, the basic utilities were complete in his new shop. On his own he created a laundry room outside the shop with a concealed doorway so the entrance to the work shop would be off limits to both family and other guest. He was proud of the concealed door which he had designed to be practically undet
ectable.

  His next project was to rent a backhoe to dig a one hundred foot long by six foot deep trench and install lengths of thirty inch diameter concrete drain pipe away from the underground room. A hole was punched through a concrete wall to slide the pipe through and then the pipe was sealed in the wall. Later he would finish the job of making the tube into a firing range for testing rifles and pistols and cartridge loads.

  Then it was time to hire the same professional contractor who had made changes to the antique shop building when he bought it. The crew installed perimeter and interior walls in the basement creating a large family room for entertaining, along with two more bathrooms and two additional bedrooms which he would use for additional storage.

  During the search for a house he had assembled a fine collection of Victorian era antiques as his personal furniture and amenities; they had been stored away until the right house was located. Although walnut furniture was the prevailing favorite wood, he found he preferred the vivid patterns of oak, especially quarter sawn red oak. After having new appliances and the furniture delivered, he again enlisted the help of the interior designer to arrange the furniture and amenities and suggest other items she felt would add to the décor and coordinate with his oak furniture.

  On a Wednesday evening during dinner His parents were caught totally off guard when he announced he had bought a house and would be packing his personal belonging to move out the following Saturday. Immediately after dishes were washed, dried and put away the three of them drove over to the new house for a look. Walt and Margaret were both impressed with the size and location of the house as well as with the manicured lawn and landscaping. Upon entering the house both commented on the beautiful job of decorating to the point where Clay felt compelled to admit he had received professional assistance. Walter maneuvered him aside to express concern about Clay’s ability in the long term to make the payments on a house which obviously had cost more than his parents. Clay assured him he was confident in his ability to manage the mortgage payments.